After the War
by JayTang
Summary: After the war, Spyro and Cyder aren't sure what to do with themselves. But is the war really over? Or is a new one just beginning. Through the violence, Spyro and Cynder explore their feelings for each other... and meet other dragons along the way.
1. Chapter 1: Life,Death&People in Between

(A/N: This fic contains violence, language, innuendo, gore, etc. **If any part of the following offends you DO NOT READ IT**. As usual, almost all flames _will be_ ignored, unless they contain reasoned statements.)

(As usual, I do not own any part of the Spyro series.)

Chapter 1

_A glade in Avalar_

A dragon, with scales that could only be described as the color of blood, was in a glade. His usually white claws and horns were covered in a layer of gore. In fact, his entire body was covered in blood.

Crymson looked down at the corpse of the ape he had just killed. The last ape that had ever lived, and the last one he would ever be able to kill. Crymson sighed.

_Mother, Father…_

It had taken years, but he had finally done it. He had killed every ape that ever had a tie to Malefor.

_Now for Malefor himself._

Suddenly the earth shook violently, but stopped within seconds. Most creatures would feel fear, but Crymson felt only rage. He knew what it meant. He knew _exactly_ what it meant. Someone had killed Malefore _BEFORE HIM_. Crymson screamed in rage, feral rage, jealous rage, pure rage.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

As flames began to erupt from every part of his body, Crymson incinerated everything around him.

_

* * *

_

_A cave in Avalar._

Scorch felt the earth shake violently, then stop. He had read the ancient dragon scrolls; he knew what had just happened. Someone had defeated Malefor. He looked down at the pink dragoness under his wing. His daughter, Ember. For years he had taught her to be cautious, to never trust another, to be safe, to defend herself if needed. And now he would have to ask her to forget all that. Forget living her entire life in solitude. Scorch sighed. Life was never easy, and he was getting older and older. He popped another sheep in his mouth.

The carcass got stuck in his throat.

Scorch gagged, struggling to breathe. He reached into his mouth with his right paw, but he couldn't reach far enough.

_Oh, the irony. For my entire life I have killed and eaten sheep. But now a sheep kills me. I would laugh if I had the breath to do so._

As his vision began to fade away at the corners, Scorch had only one regret. He regretted not being able to see Ember grow up, find a mate, and do all those things growing dragonesses do. How should he know what else, he wasn't a dragoness.

_Oh dear, Ember will have quite the awakening. I'm sure her reaction would be amusing if it weren't so tragic. _

_

* * *

_

_Skies of Avalar_

Spyro and Cynder flew through the skies. All their troubles seemed to have disappeared. Malefor was dead, the world wasn't going to be burned to ash, and they were both still alive. In fact, Cynder was so happy she was almost looking forward to Sparx's inane comments. Almost being the key word of course. But over the last few days (or would it be called years, since they had been sealed into the crystal together?), Cynder had felt herself growing closer to Spyro and Sparx.

But Spyro's thoughts were turbulent for one who had just saved the world. He couldn't help turning over the last few words Cynder had said after Malefor had died.

…_I love you…_

Did she really mean it? Right now she was acting like it had never happened.

Suddenly, Spyro saw a familiar green blot on the ground. There was only one green blot with wings of that size that Spyro knew. Pulling his wings in, Spyro went into a spiraling dive, rushing towards the ground at terminal velocity. Before he hit the ground, Spyro let his wings relax, catching the air and leveling his trajectory out. He tackled Terrador at such a speed that the larger dragon was knocked to the ground. Laughing, they tussled for a few seconds, but a scream quickly cut through the air.

Terrador's paused for a second. From the tone and pitch it seemed to be a young dragoness's scream, yet it was not Cynder. Instead, the scream seemed like it had come from far away, at the edge of hearing range.

No words were needed. The three dragons flew immediately in the direction of the scream.

_

* * *

_

_Outside of Scorch's cave…_

Ember screamed again, backing away from her father's corpse. _Her _father's corpse. Her father's _corpse_.

He was dead.

_It can't be_.

She continued backing up, leaving the cave as she did so. Everything seemed so distant, like a dream, but she knew it wasn't.

Ember backed up right into a red dragon. She started and whipped around, quick-stepping away from the stranger as she did so. He seemed remarkably calm for seeing another dragon. Father had always taught her that she was the only dragon of her age. All the other eggs had been destroyed by apes under Gaul, a primal warlord serving under Malefor himself. Actually, from time to time she had heard the felines talk of a legendary purple dragon, who could save the world. She had always been careful to not be seen or heard, as her father had taught her. But _this dragon_ was red, a darker shade of red than Scorch.

"Whoa now, I don't look that scary, do I?"

And honestly, Crymson thought he looked pretty good. He had just washed off all the gore in a waterfall, making sure his scales and horns were their natural color. Not that he could tell the difference on his scales. Now that all those he had wanted to kill were dead, Crymson wanted nothing better than to live the rest of his life in peace.

The dragoness across from him looked rather surprised to see him though. He supposed she had been taught that she was the only young dragon left. It only made sense that if Crymson had survived, so had others.

_Then again, you couldn't exactly call my circumstances normal_…

The dragoness narrowed her eyes.

"Back off, _now._" She said.

Crymson raised one eyeridge, a barely noticeable action given the fact that dragons had no eyebrow. He doubted that she could harm him, but there was no need to scare her too much. Not when she was the first other dragon he had seen. With his own eyes, at least.

He moved his left leg back, then his right leg back, making sure not to make any sudden movements. Before he could make any sudden movements, the sky fell in. Almost literally.

Three more dragons entered the clearing. The largest was a green dragon, obviously an Earth-type. His horns were curved upon themselves, a trait common among the Terra- family of dragons. The next was a smaller dragoness, with black scales. The chest scales were colored a dark magenta, in sharp contrast with her cyan eyes. The last was only slightly larger than the second, almost equal to Crymson. Crymson could feel the power emanating from this purplish-gold dragon. This must be the one who killed Malefor.

_Lucky bastard… I'd like to have a throw-down with him one of these days. Just to see who is the stronger one…_

Crymson shifted into a slightly wider defensive stance. He didn't want to hurt anyone, but he _would not die_, not when his life was just beginning.

The purple dragon opened his mouth, and Crymson prepared to counter his breath attack, but only words came out.

"Terrador, look! Dragons! I bet they're around our age, huh, Cynder?"

Like a ball, the purple dragon bounced right in front of Crymson, getting right in his face. Crymson backed up a bit, as did the pink dragoness. They were quickly side to side, facing this new dragon.

"What's your guys's name? My name's Spyro. That's Cynder over there and the big guy is Terrador. So what is it, huh?"

_How can anyone talk so much? He must be a master of the wind element, to never run out of it like that._

Crymson decided there was no harm in giving his name.

"My name is … Crymson"

"Ember" Said the pink dragoness.

Crymson relaxed just the tiniest bit. It didn't seem like this bunch meant him any harm.

Spyro was ecstatic. Other dragons! His own age, too! He turned to Terrador.

"Terrador, isn't that great? Terrador?"

But Terrador was frozen in place, an odd look on his face.

Spyro had seen Terrador in many states. He had seen Terrador happy, sad, angry, frustrated, and depressed. But now Spyro recognized the look on his instructor's face, and he had never seen it before.

It was a look of fear.


	2. Chapter 2: Under the Starry Sky

(A/N: This fic contains violence, language, innuendo, gore, etc. **If any part of the following offends you DO NOT READ IT**. As usual, almost all flames _will be_ ignored, unless they contain reasoned statements.)

(As usual, I do not own any part of the Spyro series.)

(A/N: ah crap, I'm getting really caught up in this current fic, so I probably won't be able to update the Inheritance Cycle one for a while.)

10/7/2009

Chapter 2: The Bloodling

"Terrador? Hello, Terrador?"

Spyro may have been confused, but Crymson knew that look. Anyone who knew _what _he was always gave him that look. Not too many knew, but those who did feared him. Feared him for what he was, and what he could do.

In fact, Crymson had just recently learned what he was. While staying with a pack of moles, who happened to be living in an abandoned dragon temple, Crymson had come across some interesting scrolls, with pictures that looked just like him. With the help of one of the moles, Crymson managed to translate a large portion of the text. What he had learned would stay with him forever.

"He knows _what _I am."

Spyro turned around, suspicions starting to form in his mind. He turned around to get a better look at this Crymson, stalling for time.

"What do you mean, _what_ you are? You're still a dragon, right?"

Crymson seemed to be a general dragon. Standard, straight horns, with spikes running down the back of his spine. His tail was similar to Cynder's in that it was a bladed shape. However, Crymson's tail-blade was about one and a half times longer than Cynder's, and his was straight. The only odd fact about him was that his horns, spikes, and tail were all an off-white color, the color of bone. That and he had a hideous scar over his left eye. It didn't seem to affect his vision; he opened both eyes the same amount. But it was Crymson's voice that brought attention. It had the sound of someone who was no stranger to violence, and was ready to kill at any moment.

"Yeah, I'm a dragon. The circumstances of my birth weren't exactly normal, but they made me who I am now. Made me _what_ I am now, as people seem to see."

As he talked, he began to circle Spyro, Cynder, and Terrador. They shifted to face him, none of them willing to show him their backs. Ember shifted uneasily, but it seemed like this had nothing to do with her.

Crymson continued talking. "On the night Malefor sent the apes to destroy all of the dragon eggs, my parents took me and my siblings to a safe place, or so they thought. The apes still found us. They slaughtered my parents, crushed all the eggs except mine, perhaps because mine was red, looking like a rock covered in blood. That was the night when I was changed, irrevocably. Somehow, the blood of my parents, or of my siblings, or maybe even of the apes, altered me in the egg. The blood changed me, giving me abilities surpassing the average dragon. Some of which I would give anything not to have. When I finally hatched, memories flooded into me. Somehow, I have both the memories of my mother and my father, in their last moments of life."

Crymson feinted towards them, forcing the trio back a bit.

"Do you have any idea how that feels? To know exactly how the only two people in the world who cared for you, die? And not just to watch them die, but feel them, know their last moments as if it were you who had died?" Crymson felt bad for talking so, but the old wounds still cut deep. "But I digress. The slaughter made me into a Bloodling, one who thirsts for battle, for combat, for _**blood**_. And I did. For the last few years, I have been killing anyone or anything that had ever had a tie to Malefor. The apes may have done it, but it was Malefor who ordered the mass murder on that one fateful night. My entire life has been lived for the purpose of killing him and anyone who dealt with him. Until yesterday, I had done it all, except kill Malefor. I wanted to save him for last, to savor his death. But someone killed him, and I have nothing else to live for. It was you wasn't it, Spyro? You killed Malefor." Finished with his spiel, Crymson stopped pacing. He looked like nothing more than a hatchling, alone in the world and unsure what to do.

Spyro nodded

"Yes, I killed Malefor. But it wasn't easy, I had a lot of help. From Cynder, from the four Guardians, even from my brother Sparx. But believe me when I say that I know how you feel. I never knew my real parents either. The closest thing I ever had to a father was Ignitus, the Guardian of Fire. He died in helping us defeat Malefor."

In the corner of his vision, Spyro saw Terrador flinch at the death of his friend

"But it's all over now. Malefor is dead, and according to you so is everyone else who ever took a part in his plans. We can start over now, start to live our lives again. Come with us to Warfang, the dragon city. Please, see what it is to live without war, without battle."

Crymson looked somewhat taken aback at Spyro's offer. He quickly regained his composure.

"I can never stop fighting. You could say it's in my blood. I'll come with you to Warfang, but just to see what the famous dragon city looks like."

Spyro could see that Crymson wanted to stop the violence. It would just take him a while to admit it.

* * *

_Later that night…_

Crymson choose to sleep away from the other dragons. He had always been a creature of solitude. During his travels, he had had comrades of battle, but they had always either died or chose to stop fighting. Crymson never hated those who left; he understood what killing did to some. He knew it drove some insane, gave some terrible nightmares. But he had killed countless times, and Crymson had always been able to sleep fine. But this night, he couldn't. There was just too much to think about.

He smelled _her _before he saw or heard her. A scent that he could only describe as _dragoness_, overlaid with a strong odor of soot or ash. He sniffed the air again.

_Is that… a corpse I smell? She smells of the recent death of another._

He kept still, still feigning sleep, when she finally returned. She, too, chose a spot away from Spyro, Cynder, and Terrador to sleep. Crymson waited a few seconds for her to assume everyone else was sleeping, to let her guard down. He silently rose from a prone position, and began to move over to the pink dragoness. Using his excellent night vision, Crymson was able to avoid stepping on any twigs, leaves, or anything else that might make a sound. Once he was directly over her, he used his left paw to cover her mouth, preventing her from making a sound. He put his head right next to her head and whispered.

"I don't want to hurt you. I just want to talk. Meet me by the big rock south of here in fifteen minutes, so the others don't get suspicious. And if you tell the others, by the time they stand up I _will_ _be _asleep, and I will have no idea what you are talking about. Do you understand?"

Ember gave a single nod.

Crymson began to slink away again, not flying to fear that one of the others was a light enough sleeper that the sound of wings beating wind could be heard. Within a few seconds, the trees hid his form from view.

* * *

Spyro woke up. He was thirsty. He stumbled along towards the general direction of a river, inadvertently waking Cynder. She quietly followed him, unsure of where he was going.

Having reached the river, Spyro groggily began to drink. The cold water splashing on his face woke him up, enough to realize he was being followed. He inconspicuously sniffed the air, and realized it was Cynder.

_How weird is that? I know Cynder so well that I can recognize her by her scent_.

He wasn't surprised when she appeared behind him. She spoke quietly.

"Are you sure we're doing the right thing?"

Spyro thought he knew what she was talking about, or rather whom she was talking about. He decided it was best to play dumb, for now.

"What do you mean, Cynder?"

"Don't give me that, Spyro. You know what I mean. I'm talking about this Crymson we just met. Is it wise to simply invite him into Warfang like that?"

"So far he's given us no reason to _not_ trust him. He seems a little jaded at life, but he seems like an alright guy. Besides, he's a dragon, and for all we know, us four could be the last dragons of this generation. In fact, I trust him more than the pink one. What was her name?"

"Ember."

"Yeah, Ember. I trust him more than her. You didn't see the look in his eyes when I admitted that I killed Malefor. It was pure jealousy, Cynder. He looked like if he had complete mastery of Dragon Time, he would have gone back and killed Malefor before me, even if it meant his own death. He wanted it _that badly_. He hated Malefor _that_ much. I don't think someone like that could be too bad of a dragon to know, especially for us."

Cynder averted her gaze slightly.

"Yeah, I guess that's true. But what is he, really? Did you get a look at Terrador's face when he first saw him? Terrador was about to have a heart attack! What if there's something about him that we should be afraid of?"

Spyro couldn't take it anymore. He understood Cynder's fear, but it was unreasonable. He had hoped not to have to bring it up, but it looked like there was no choice. He looked Cynder dead in the eye, and spoke in a monotone:

"Lemme take a statement from Sparx, and answer your question with a question. What if you are still being controlled by Malefor, or are still somehow evil, and are planning to kill me and the remaining Guardians in our sleep?"

Cynder flinched as if he had just struck her. Spyro saw tears beginning to form in her eyes, and knew immediately that he took it a little too far.

"Hey hey, I didn't mean it that way. I trust you way too much; I would never suspect you of doing something like that. All I meant to say is that Crymson seems like a good guy, and that we won't really how he truly is until we get to know him. I mean, people feared you, I know you for who you really are. You're not the Dark Queen anymore, you're Cynder. So even if this guy has a dark past, let's not judge him for it. Let's just see how he is now, yeah?"

Cynder nodded, wiping away her half-formed tears.

"Okay [sniff]. I guess I was being a little bit stupid. We'll give this guy a shot."

Spyro smiled that goofy smile that Cynder loved to see so much.

"Great. And Cynder?"

"Yes?"

Quickly, before he could lose his nerve, Spyro gave Cynder a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Don't cry. It makes me want to cry when I see you cry."

Before she could see him blushing, Spyro raced back to the sleeping area, leaving a confused Cynder behind him.

Alone, Cynder put a paw to where Spyro had kissed her.

_Did he just… kiss me?_

* * *

Once again, Crymson smelt Ember before he saw her. It was quite an attractive smell, really. He turned to her as she approached him.

"You wanted to talk?"

"Yeah. You left in the middle of the night and came back smelling like death and fire. I want to know _why_."

Ember snorted, releasing a small amount of smoke out of her nostrils. It was none of his business, but he wouldn't give up until he found out. It would be best to tell him part of the truth.

"I'm coming to Warfang with you guys. I just had to… clean up some of the old remnants of my life. My old life was already over before I met you. I'm ready to start a new life. I was taught by … I was taught to trust no one, to make friends with no one. Now I'm changing the principles of my life. I don't even know if I can do it. It'll be hard to change habits of a lifetime. What about you?"

It was a standard tactic Scorch had taught her: if someone is prying into your life, turn the tables and force them to talk about theirs.

Crymson knew there was more to it, but he wasn't the kind to push for information not willingly given. Not among friends, or potential ones. Crymson scoffed at the dragoness.

"That's nothing. I've lived my entire life for hatred, for revenge. When I kill, I don't feel anything afterwards, even though by all rights I should. I don't know if I can ever really be a part of society. I have no skills I could use in a community."

Ember eyed him shyly out of the corner of her eye. "Surely you must have _some _skills?"

Crymson turned and looked her dead in the eye.

"I know how to fight. I know how to kill; how to decapitate; and how to simply disarm. I know which places on the body can afford the quickest kills. I know how to be silent enough; to be unnoticeable enough to get to those spots. Remember how I snuck up on you? If I wanted to, all four of you would be dead. I know how to kill a large group. I know how to create the fear that will make them ineffective, so I can pick them off one by one. I know how to kill someone far larger than me, how to kill someone far quicker than me, how to kill someone with far more power than me. Everything I know is about killing."

Ember looked at the Bloodling with sad eyes.

"Then why do you kill? Your revenge is over. You can't kill just for the sake of killing. Then you would be no better than Malefor."

Ember left and started to walk back to her sleeping spot. It was far away and she still wanted to get at least some sleep. As she walked by Crymson, she inadvertently brushed against his side, causing him to glare at her.

"Sheesh. It was just an accident." She muttered as she continued on her way.

Through sheer willpower, Crymson controlled his body until she was away. His body then began to tremble uncontrollably. Something about her, maybe the lush feel of her scales on his, had set him off. He lifted a paw and clenched it, trying to stop the shaking.

_Dammit! What's wrong with me?_

It didn't work. In the past, he had felt this only once. There was only one way to make it stop.

Crymson immediately began to stretch, so he wouldn't pull a muscle or tendon. He would just have to train until he collapsed from exhaustion. He knew his own limits; he would just have to push his body far beyond them.

He opened his maw and a ball of fire came out. Oddly, it slowly rose until it was high enough to illuminate a wide range of ground. Ordinarily, it was difficult, usually impossible for dragons to sustain a flame without constantly adding to the fire with flames from their mouth. Of course, Crymson was anything but ordinary.

_Even for me, it takes an intense level of concentration, but that's exactly what I want right now._

Crymson then began to assemble a scenario in his mind: being surrounded by four enemies. Within his imagination, he projected them into the clearing and began. With a slash here, he ravaged a throat; with a quick tail-stab, he ran a heart through. He ran through his routine over and over, altering his foes' numbers and species, burning through his stamina at an alarming rate.

To an onlooker, it would almost appear to be a dance, albeit a deadly one. Every move seemed choreographed, every strike seemed planned. Crymson increased his speed more and more, until he was a blur. Hours passed; and deep track marks began to appear in the ground where Crymson's feet dug in to give him more force.

_Almost… there…_

* * *

(A/N: Muahaha, don't worry, you'll find out just what Crymson is and can do later. Alright, well please review it. Also, if you see any misspelled stuff or a plot hole, tell me.

Ahaha, snuck in a slight bit of SpyroxCynder there. It'll probably get heavier later on, but I'm not gonna tell the plot.

Also, you can see that Crymson is having problems with... something. Bloodlust? Romance? Or is it just Lust?

((Ah, the joys of maturing. As if growing up wasn't as freaking painful enough as it is))


	3. Chapter 3: Old Places and New Faces

(A/N: This fic contains violence, language, innuendo, gore, etc. **If any part of the following offends you DO NOT READ IT**. As usual, almost all flames _will be_ ignored, unless they contain reasoned statements.)

(As usual, I do not own any part of the Spyro series.)

(A/N: ah crap, I'm getting really caught up in this current fic, so I probably won't be able to update the Inheritance Cycle one for a while.)

10/26/2009

Chapter 3: Old Places, New Faces

_Before the defeat of Malefor_

Ignitus felt the lava and flames burning away at his scales. Ordinarily he would have enough strength to pull himself out, but now he didn't. He had given his all so Spyro and Cynder could get to Malefor. Ignitus was old, it might simply be that it was his time to die. It wasn't a bad death, really, except for the pain. Ignitus could think of worse ways to die. As a fire dragon, there would definitely be worse ways to die, generally involving water or ice.

_Ah Spyro, if only you knew what you were to me_…

Ignitus felt his life slipping away from him; his flesh burning away. Right before he lost consciousness he heard a voice in his head.

_Not yet… It is not your turn to die…_

* * *

_In the Skies…_

Together the five dragons flew to Warfang. Of the five, Terrador was the slowest.

_Ah, to be young again, to have so much energy. And all the other little things we associate with youth. _

In front of the Earth Guardian was Crymson and Ember. Neither was very used to flying long distances, but both were so stubborn that they were keeping neck to neck with each other, refused to let the other get ahead.

Ember smirked as best as she could while breathing heavily. "What's the matter, a strong, young dragon like yourself can't keep up with me?"

Crymson smirked, too, but in his case it came out as more of a grimace. "Please, get real with me, Pinky. I just don't want to make you feel too bad. But if you want to be with the old man, I'll leave you two in peace." He pushed himself just a little bit harder, getting a little ahead of Ember.

_Pinky? Oh hell no you didn't._

Crymson saw Ember accelerating and saw the look on her face. Honestly he got a little scared, but then smiled.

_Oooh, Pinky's got some guts… I'm still tired from last night, so this little race will be fun._

Far ahead of the other three dragons flew Spyro and Cynder. Since being freed from the crystal, it seemed like they were basically flying and fighting the entire time. Of course, for two comrades they were particularly awkward with each other, a fact none of the other dragons missed. Every now and then, Spyro would sneak a glance and Cynder, and other times Cynder would take a peek at Spyro. A couple of times they looked at each other at the same time and immediately started blushing.

Finally they all reached Warfang. At the top of the walls the two other Guardians, Cyril and Volteer, were waiting. Spyro and Cynder were the first to land. A general chaos of enthusiasm ensued. Volteer immediately began talking about how relieved and amazed he was that they had all survived and Cyril began praising himself for being such a great teacher. Suddenly Volteer noticed the faint shapes of the other dragons.

"Ah, I see you have located the presence of other winged, scaled, quadrupeds such as yourself. Remarkable!"

Crymson and Ember landed atop the walls. Rather, falling or collapsing would be a better term for it. Crymson hit the ground first, and Ember fell right on top of him. They were both too tired to realize the awkward position they were in for several seconds. Then Crymson's eyes widened as he realized that their pelvises were brushing heavily against each other's.

"Get away from me dragon-lady!" Crymson half rolled, half fell off of the pink dragoness. Standing up, he said, "Well I won, I touched the wall first."

_Hah, lucky for me no one can see me blushing._

Ember jumped up and got right in his face. "Oh yeah? Well who said we were racing? Maybe you're just being an ass about it!"

_Damn it, I think I'm blushing. _Ember thought.

Cyril coughed/cleared his throat rather awkwardly, and both of the dragons stepped away, unnecessarily pretending that they hadn't just screamed at each other.

Cyril opened his mouth to speak, but Volteer beat him to it.

"Amazing, a Bloodling! You're supposed to simply be a myth, a legend, a fantasy, you know? Is it true about what you can do? Can you really—?"

Spyro interrupted the energetic Guardian. "Wait, you know what he is?"

Volteer frowned. "Well, not exactly. The legend of the Bloodling has been passed down through countless generations. Generally, parents used it to scare their hatchlings into behaving, but certain scholars believed that a Bloodling could actually exist. In fact, they're rarer than purple dragons."

"But I am the only purple dragon, besides Malefor!"

Volteer looked Spyro in the eye. "**EXACTLY**."

Crymson, unwilling to talk about himself, felt obligated to say the first random, cynical comment he could think of, off the top of his head.

"Uh yeah, great happy reunion, yada yada blahbbity blah. The old green dragon is still lagging behind. Mr. Yellow-ball-of-energy might want to go help him out."

At the mention of a reunion, Spyro's face visibly fell. "Volteer, Cyril… Ignitus… He didn't make it."

Both Guardians stared at Spyro for a second, and then slowly started to smile.

"I'm not joking! He's dead!"

"Oh no, we're not doubting your sanity or your competence, Spyro," Cyril interjected, "It just so happens to be that…" Annoying as hell as always, Cyril dragged out the pause until Volteer whacked him in the back with an electrically charged paw, giving him a small shock. "Ignitus isn't dead." The Lightning Guardian finished. "He's waiting for you at the top of the Ma… erm, at the top the building where you fought the Golem."

Immediately Spyro flew off in an eastern direction, Cynder following close behind him. Both were so surprised that neither noticed Volteer's slight pause. Ember recognized the name from her father's teachings, and flew off to meet the legendary Fire Guardian. Crymson did a half shrug and followed. He glanced back at the yellow dragon.

_He knows what I am, yet he isn't afraid_. _And what was he going to say? Ma…n? … Ma…t? I got nothing._

* * *

Cyril and Volteer both watched, amused, as Terrador barely got himself to the top of the defensive wall.

"What's that matter, Terrador? Can't keep up with a couple of hatchlings?"

"Why yes Terrador, Cyril has made an outstanding observation. I seem to recall that you used to be the best flyer for long distances. What happened? Getting old?"

Volteer and Cyril both laughed, and Terrador laughed along with them.

"I'm definitely getting old; we all are. But luckily for me my memory isn't gone yet. _I seem to recall_ that you were the best at flying in sprints, but not long distances. It certainly helped you as you escaped from dragoness's rooms, fleeing from angry fathers. Now that was always hilarious."

Now Terrador and Cyril were genuinely laughing their scaled asses off.

"And remember," Cyril gasped, "When one father followed you halfway across Avalar? That was great!"

Volteer flinched. He remembered that all too well.

"Oh yes, sometimes I think I still have the bruises. But I remember a certain dragoness… Kyria, was it?" Volteer smirked.

"I remember that one day, you finally got the guts to ask her out in front of all the other dragons. She said yes, and you were so happy you kissed her on the spot…but…."

"You accidentally released you ice powers and froze her lips together!" Terrador finished. "Oh boy, she _was_ MAD. She would have killed you if the rest of us hadn't held her back."

Cyril snorted, but the other two knew they got under his scales. "Well, we got along fine after that."

"Oh yeah, if you count her glaring icicles at you and you avoiding her like hell as getting along fine."

"Oh come on, you two hatchlings." Said Terrador. "Enough bickering. Lets go meet up with Ignitus. Knowing him he will have something important to say."

"I do hope that it is terribly awkward. After all, Ignitus was always the best at bringing up the most gauche conversations." The other two dragons just stared at Volteer. The Lightning guardian sighed. He would like to debate and elucidate on the definition of the word _gauche_, but knowing his friends, they wouldn't understand such subtle nuances.

"Conversations filled with innuendo; references to... ahem… doing it. After all, isn't there a certain irony in Ignitus giving his bereaved son a talk about maturing dragons and dragonesses; on top of the Mating Chambers?"

"I'm sure you would love that, you pervert." Cyril growled. 'But for those of us who think with the head above our wings, not the head below the waist; he'll probably be saying something important. I'm not going to miss out on what our comrade has to say."

For all his appearances to be cold and dispassionate, the other dragons knew that he was really a caring dragon. It was just that the war with Malefor had many casualties. Cyril's mate, parents, siblings, and hatchlings were all killed. It just wasn't something that someone could experience and not be changed.

* * *

Spyro was flying at a fast pace, leaving Cynder, Ember, and Crymson behind him. Finally he saw his old mentor. And the Chronicler? He wasn't supposed to be able to leave his realm.

"Ignitus, I thought you were dead! How did you manage to escape the belt of fire?"

"I didn't." Ignitus admitted. He pointed to the Chronicler. "He sort of pulled me out."

"Not really. It was simply a matter of collapsing a small portion of space-time into a bubble then bringing it to my realm." The Chronicler had always looked old to Spyro, but now he looked decrepit, as if he was just feeling his age.

"Chronicler, are you okay?"

The teal dragon gave a low chuckle.

"I'm as okay as I have ever been, my boy. I've lived longer than any dragon has a right to. It has been an honor to aid you, and a great pleasure in playing a part in Malefor's defeat. But like all things that live, I too must eventually succumb to the thing we know as death. As my last command as Chronicler, I have passed the role to Ignitus."

At this moment, the other three young dragons arrived

"So the Bloodling has finally arrived. Ah, Ignitus, these next few years will be interesting; the next few centuries even more so. I've held on this long, but now I can rest. I just wanted to say goodbye. Goodbye Spyro…"

Slowly, the former Chronicler began to crumble away. Not crumble away in the way Gaul did; with the violent crunch of breaking stone. He simply began to disintegrate, as if a great amount of time had caught up with him all at once.

"Chronicler, wait!"

With his body gone, only the Chronicler's voice remained.

"I am proud of you Spyro… But remember to stay sharp… you will need it, and your friends… Goodbye, Spyro…"

Then even that voice vanished.

Spyro felt sad, but he knew the Chronicler made perfect sense. Besides, Ignitus was still alive.

_Wait, what is that?_

It was a single greenish-blue scale. For some reason or another, it was the only part of the Chronicler that hadn't faded away. Spyro walked over and picked it up between two claws. He decided to have a small hole punched in it and threaded with cloth, so he could wear the scale around his neck, to always remember the old Chronicler. Perhaps the moles, or the Avalarians could help him, both were known to have dexteritous craftsmanship

"So Ignitus, are you going to stay in Warfang with the other guardians or are you going to live in the Chronicler's realm?"

"I must live in the Timeless Realm; I am linked to it. If I stay out of it for too long I will disintegrate just like him. But I need you to go get the other guardians—"

"No need for that, Ignitus," Terrador's deep voice interrupted." We are already here."

"Ah, good," the new Chronicler continued. "then I can continue without any further delay. As I have already explained, my existence is tied to a different realm. I can't stay in this dimension for long periods of time, so I will be unable simultaneously act as the Chronicler and the Fire Guardian at the same time. As it goes without saying that I cannot cease being the new Chronicler, I must step down from my role as the Fire Guardian. As is my right, as my last act is to appoint a new Fire Guardian."

"Ah, shit, here we go again." Crymson murmured, deliberately pitching his voice loud enough for all to hear. Far from being annoyed, Ignitus was amused.

"I made not be able to foresee and ride the eddies of time as well as my predecessor could, but let me assure you, there will come a time when you will make such an announcement as this."

Crymson squinted. _There's no reason for him to lie about it… yet he hasn't given me a reason to make me believe he's telling the truth… I'll simply have to keep it in mind._

"Anyways as I was saying, I must appoint a new Fire Guardian." Ignitus turned to the other three elemental Guardians. "I must confess I have been keeping secrets from you. There have always been other dragons, and thus other eggs that survived the night Gaul and his minions attacked."

"That's more than copacetic." Volteer interjected. "Just to get something off of my chest, I've been hiding a harem of dragonesses from you guys for decades."

All the dragons stared at him silently.

"What? I was just joking… just rip a dragon's wings off while you're at it."

Every one was still silent until Cyril spoke.

"Well that's okay. To tell the truth, I've been hiding three harems, myself."

The Ice Guardian said this so nonchalantly that even Volteer was, as he would put it, flabbergasted.

Crymson, being very immature, couldn't let this pass by him. "Geez, you two guys must really be getting old to lose that much stamina. I've got _**sixty-nine**_**­­** harems!"

Terrador didn't like perverted jokes. He **really** didn't like perverted jokes. So Terrador used the mace/spike-ball-thingy at the end of his tail. He clubbed Volteer and Cyril, knocking them both unconscious. But he accidentally hit Crymson with enough force to crush all the ribs on his left side, immediately realizing his error.

There was a loud crack as several bones in Crymson's body were fractured, some in multiple places.

_Oh shit, the old man hits hard!_

To everyone's surprise, Crymson stood back up again, and spat a large wad of blood onto the floor. There was just a hint of a red glow beneath him. Red Crystals?

"Okay, old man, I get it: no more jokes. But the next time you hit me… one of us dies. I don't care if it's you or me: if it's you I won't care 'cuz you just hit me, if it's me then I'll be past caring."

Cynder and Spyro started. They both knew that attitude; that tone, that mind-set. It was the same mindset that Spyro could get into when Convextivity overwhelmed him, or when Cynder let go of her control and allowed her darker side to show. You no longer cared if you lived or died, such trivial matters were beyond you. But if you were going to die, you would—

"Take as many bastards as you can with you, right?" Crymson finished, looking right at them. "I see it in you eyes… you understand, don't you?" The two heroes nodded. Sometimes the only way to survive was to not care if you died.

**(A/N: in this story, Cynder can become her adult self when she is extremely stressed, like the way Spyro became Dark Spyro when Ignitus "died" in Dawn of the Dragon.)**

Ember licked her lips. "But how are you—?"

"Still alive or still standing? I'm just too god-damn stubborn do die. Too stupid to stay laying down, either."

"Can you—" Spyro started.

"Read minds? No. You guys are just really predictable." He looked to Ignitus. "Will you please just say whatever-the-hell-you-were-going-to-say? I'm hungry."

_Cyril is a cold wet fish in bed!_ Ignitus thought. He waited, but there was no reaction. _I guess he can't read minds._

"Anyways as I was saying, I must appoint a new Fire Guardian. My brother survived the Night of Broken Eggs, possibly saving some eggs also. With my consent he has been hiding all this time. As you three may know," Ignitus pointed to the other guardians. "he was my equal… or even better… in control of our shared element, fire. As he is fully qualified, Scorch will be the next Fire Guardian. Find him, and notify him of all that has happened."

What? Her father had always spoken of the four Guardians, but Ember had never though anything of it. And apparently Ignitus was her uncle? And her father was his equal or better than him?

…_And father said that I was far more skilled than him…?_

Ember forced away the tears that sprung to her eyes. She forced her voice to be steady, and spoke.

"Scorch _was_ my father. He is now dead."

Ignitus's jaw hit the floor. This little upstart dragoness was his… niece? He sighed. "Terms of death?"

"What?"

"How did he die?" Crymson translated for her, keeping all inquisitiveness out of his own voice.

"Oh… he choked."

If this were an anime, all the other dragons would have sweat dropped. But since this isn't an anime, and reptiles don't have sweat glands, nothing was noticeable.

Ignitus sighed again.

"He always was a glutton. As hatchlings, and also as young dragons, we always joked that his love of food would be the death of him. But we always meant it in a heart-failure way. It pains me greatly to do this, but I have made a contingency plan in the case of my brother's death. My next choice, I know for a fact is alive. For the Fire Guardian, I must, unfortunately, appoint my son…"

_WHAT, IGNITUS HAD A SON?_ Spyro, Cynder, and Terrador screamed in their heads. Even Cyril and Volteer woke up at this.

_I have a cousin?_ Ember thought.

_Jeez, these dragons are like rabbits…_ (Try to guess who that was.)

"my son… Spyro."

**(A/N: OH EFF, BIG SURPRISE [not really, if you paid attention to the game you'll notice that all the dragons have different horn shapes except Ignitus and Spyro, their horns are the same shape]. Well there you go there's the 3****rd**** chapter of After the War (hereby referred to as AoW). **

**(Haha, looks like Volteer was a player back in the day. Oh, and incase anyone is big on Greek, the name Kyria is basically the female equivalent of Cyril. I'll update as soon as I can, which is saying absolutely nothing. Review it or the 42 and a half hells will burn you for eternity!!!!!!!!!!!)**


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